


The Start of Something Maybe

by flipflop_diva



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 18:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2239116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They met the first day of their first year, but that was only the start. The story of Neville and Hermione. Or at least the beginning of their story. Set during various canon events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Start of Something Maybe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VelvetMouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelvetMouse/gifts).



> VelvetMouse asked for a plausible, believable buildup of friendship between Neville and Hermione. I hope this does that some sort of justice!

_Gran finished patting him down from head to toe and stepped back, frowning._

_“I think that’s the best we can do,” she remarked. “I hope it will be enough.”_

_Neville nodded, staring down at his toes._

_“Stop looking at your feet, boy. Look up. Do you remember what I’ve taught you?”_

_Neville looked up. He nodded again. “Excel in school. Make you proud.”_

_Gran nodded. “Very well,” she said. Her lips pursed. “And you might want to find a good witch you can marry someday, too. Merlin knows you’ll probably need all the help you can get.”_

•••

Neville was panicking. It had been less than an hour and he was already letting down his Gran. Trevor the toad was nowhere to be seen and he had no idea how to go about getting him back.

He stood in the middle of the train’s corridor, his hands stuffed in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet, chewing on his lip.

What was he going to do? What was he going to do?

He didn’t see her appear, just felt a tap on his shoulder.

He jerked around and stared, wide-eyed, at the girl with the bushy brown hair curiously watching him back.

“Is something wrong?” she asked him, and he would have thought she sounded almost rude if he hadn’t been on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

“My t-t-toad,” he managed to stammer. “Trevor. He’s missing.”

The girl nodded. “Well, let’s find him then,” she said, as if it were that simple.

Neville shrugged. “I dunno …” He trailed off his eyes darting everywhere. “I’ve been looking …”

The girl shook her head, almost as though she were disappointed. “Just tell me what he looks like.”

“O-okay,” Neville said, and he described Trevor for her as best he could. Once he was done, the girl pressed a finger to her lips and nodded thoughtfully.

“Okay, then,” she said. “Let’s go this way.” She pointed down the corridor toward the front of the train. Then she paused and turned her head to look at him. “I should introduce myself,” she said. “I’m Hermione Granger.”

She held out her hand. Neville took it.

“I’m Neville Longbottom.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Hermione said. 

“Very pleased to meet you,” Neville replied.

•••

He slipped out of the dormitory without making a noise or waking anyone else. He wasn’t supposed to, but he couldn’t sleep. He reached up and patted his hair, still styled in place from all the sprays and potions he’d used earlier in the evening. He’d wanted to look good for Ginny, since she had agreed to go with him to the Yule Ball, but more than that, he’d wanted to look good for all the girls who had refused to go with him.

One in particular. Not that it mattered. She was now dating the hot foreign student. He had never stood a chance.

He made his way down the stairs that led to the Common Room. He just wanted to climb into his favorite chair and hope that morning came quick.

He didn’t pay attention, his thoughts too busy elsewhere, until he was in front of the chair he sought. And it wasn’t empty.

She was curled up in a ball, her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin resting on her knees. She was in her night robes and her hair was down, but it wasn’t completely back to normal. It was somewhere in between bushy and out-of-control and silky and smooth.

She stared at him, her eyes wide in the dark.

“I, errr, sorry,” Neville said automatically when he saw her, his cheeks instantly warming. He was glad the only light came from the gleam of the moon and the fire in the corner. “I didn’t know anyone else would be down here.”

She shrugged. “Neither did I. And I took your favorite chair. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said, not pausing to wonder how she knew it was his favorite. “You were here first.” He gestured to the empty chair next to her. “Can I …?”

“Of course.”

He dropped into the seat, wishing he had never come downstairs and half wanting to run back up to the dormitory as fast as he could. He had wanted to be alone, but now …

He shifted awkwardly in his seat and tried to focus on the flames dancing in the fireplace.

“I should have gone to the Yule Ball with you.”

Neville started, jerked around. She was looking at him. And she didn’t look like she was teasing him.

“Errrr, what?” he said.

Hermione lifted her shoulders and let them fall in a resigned fashion. “It was a horrible evening,” she said. “I think I would have had much more fun if I were with you.”

“You and Krum didn’t …”

“Oh, he was fine,” she said. “He fancies me and all. But I ….” She trailed off.

“You don’t fancy him back?” Neville asked, and he hoped he hid the delight he was feeling.

“I just think it would have been more fun to go with a friend.”

_A friend._

“Right,” Neville said. “Of course.”

And he went back to staring at the fire.

•••

He’d thought about her every day. Every time he took a curse from one of the Carrows, he hoped she was okay. Every time he endured yet another punishment for “acting out,” he prayed she returned safely.

It was hard not knowing if she was still alive or if he would ever see her again. The last time he had seen her — seen them, really — had been on the platform at King’s Cross Station as they headed back into the Muggle world.

“Keep in touch,” Neville had told them, almost frantically, just as he spotted Gran in the crowd. “I want to help.”

Hermione had leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “We will,” she had said, but he hadn’t heard from them at all. Ginny was the one who had told him what had happened at the wedding and how they had fled into the night, and she was the one who swore they were still alive, despite what the news reported. He had prayed she was right.

And now here they were. Here _she_ was. He could see them growing larger and larger as he walked down the tunnel toward the Hog’s Head, the shimmering image of Ariana next to him. 

He could barely stand it. He was tired, and bruised, and mentally drained, but _finally_ , they had returned. He almost skipped the last few steps down the secret entrance, reaching the end and pushing the portrait forward. He leapt off the mantelpiece down into the room.

“I knew you’d come! _I knew it, Harry!_ ” he shouted, embracing his friend before turning to the girl who hadn’t left his thoughts in almost a year.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he murmured to her, and he felt her squeeze him a little harder than she ever had before.

“I could say the same,” she replied, and then she pulled back and smiled at him, and for one slight second, the world was okay.

•••

She was the one who found him afterward. He was sitting on the stairs leading to the front door — or what was left of the stairs anyway — staring out over the Great Lawn. The bodies had been removed, but in his mind, he could still see them, could still hear the screams and the cries. 

He tried to picture what Hogwarts had looked like when it was still standing and in one piece, but it felt like that was a lifetime ago and not less than twenty-four hours.

She dropped down beside him and placed her hand on his leg.

“You were amazing,” she said. He turned his head to look at her. Now that he had time to take a closer look at her, he noticed she seemed older than he remembered her being, more tired, but just as beautiful. Her eyes looked sad but hopeful. She was covered in dirt, and there was a scrape on her cheek, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said. “You were the ones who stopped _him_.”

“You killed Nagini,” she said. “You stepped up when no one else would.”

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It didn’t feel like anything.”

“Trust me,” she said. “It was.”

She moved her hand from his leg to his arm, finding his fingers and slipping her own between them. Neville closed his eyes, his whole body feeling warm.

“I missed you.” The words tore from his mouth before he could think.

“I missed you too.”

“No,” he said. He opened his eyes. “I missed _you_. Like I thought about you all the time and I …”

He trailed off, feeling stupid. He might have chopped the head off a snake, but talking to Hermione …

Her expression hadn’t changed, though.

“Neville,” she said softly. “I missed _you_ , too.”

And then she did the last thing he would ever have expected. She leaned up and pressed her lips to his, so gently he might have thought he was imagining it, except her hand squeezing his told him it was real.

She pulled back and carefully scanned his face.

“I missed you,” she repeated.

He felt a smile spread across his face. “Maybe we could spend some time together and get caught up then?” he suggested.

“I would like that,” she said, and she smiled too.

This time he was the one who moved in to snog her, and this time it wasn’t quite so gentle.

She didn’t object at all.


End file.
